


We All Need Someone, Honey, How I Need You

by cesare_the_somnambulist



Series: Sweetheart, We Need Each Other [3]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Adam leaves but comes back, Because fuck VLD and MCU canon, Fuck 'em both, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-02
Updated: 2019-03-02
Packaged: 2019-11-08 03:55:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17973992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cesare_the_somnambulist/pseuds/cesare_the_somnambulist
Summary: “Adam?” Shiro couldn't think. The only thing that mattered to him in that moment was it’s Adam, he's alive, he's alive and it's Adam -“Who the hell is Adam?” the man asked in Adam's voice, frowning Adam's frown. He lifted his gun, aimed right at Shiro, but Shiro was frozen.





	We All Need Someone, Honey, How I Need You

**Two Years Later**

 

Shiro felt that he had become relatively well-adjusted to modern life. Of course, there weren't many other people that he could compare experiences with, but still. He had gotten an apartment it D.C., he was staying active by working with S.H.I.E.L.D., making new friends, and even learning more about pop culture (Lance was constantly making references to some ‘meme’ or other and sometimes Shiro despaired of ever learning them all).

But now, at the late Veronica Macias’s funeral, he was reminded again of how little he had in this world that was _familiar_ to him.

When he had first heard that Ronnie was still alive in the 21st century, he had been ecstatic - and terrified. What if she was too old now to remember him? But when he had finally worked up the courage to visit her, she had taken one look at him and said in pure disbelief, “Shiro? Is that really you, kid?” Shiro had had a hard time not crying then: here she was, seventy years later, with silver hair and wrinkles, still alive and still _Ronnie._ Of course, she wasn't exactly still at full health. Several times during his visits she would begin to stare at him in wonder and would say, “Kid! I thought you died, what - how - ?” and Shiro would have to explain it all over again. But at least he had still had Ronnie, a changed but familiar face in this new and unfamiliar century.

And now was left with nothing all over again - at least, it certainly felt that way.

At her funeral, he let his tears flow freely, although he _hated_ crying in front of other people. As he carried her coffin into the church, he silently thanked her for everything, everything, everything that she had given him, all the comforting words and side-splitting jokes and her smile _,_ oh God, her _smile._ He would never see it again in person, and no one ever would because she was _gone._ He took his seat in the pews numbly, not processing anything around him, grieving and grieving and grieving -

Until a familiar voice began to speak:

“Veronica Macias was known to most as a founder of S.H.I.E.L.D.,” Lance began in a tearful voice, “but to me, she was Aunt Ronnie. She had a photo in her office: Aunt Ronnie standing next to JFK. As a kid, that was pretty cool, and even now, I...I strive to make her proud. I once asked her how she had managed to master espionage and diplomacy in a time when no one wanted to see an immigrant woman succeed at either.” A fond smile stole over Lance's face. “She said, ‘Compromise where you can. But where you can't, don't. Even if everyone is telling you that something wrong is something right. Even if the whole world is telling you to move, it's your duty to plant yourself like a tree, look them in the eye and say, ‘No, you move.’’  


Later, after the service, Shiro found Lance lingering in the church. “I'm sorry I didn't tell you,” Lance said without turning around. “It was decided that we keep my relation to Aunt Ronnie classified, and -”

“You were following orders, keeping the both of you safe,” Shiro interrupted gently. “I can't blame you for that, and neither should you.”

Lance turned around to face him, and his eyes were red, his shoulders shaking. “It's not just that, Shiro, it's - I mean -” he trailed off frustratedly. “ _Ronnie freaking Macias_ , dude. How am I supposed to live up to that?” he demanded, splaying his arms. “I'm just a guy who shoots arrows and occasionally makes jokes, and - oh, God - and now here I am at her _funeral_ talking about _my_ insecurities -”

Shiro had no idea what to say, so he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Lance, as gently as he could with his metal arm. “I think you don't need to live up to her legacy, Lance. You're a valuable S.H.I.E.L.D. agent all on your own, and I'm happy to have you on my side.”

Lance began to cry into his shoulder, tears pouring in earnest. “Thank you, Shiro. Thank you so much. You know, Aunt Ronnie, she - She told me so much about you,” he said, with a watery smile. “And when I first met you, I - I was so confused, because when I first explained to her what a dork was, she laughed and said, ‘Just like Captain America was’, but when I met you, you were so _serious_ -”

“She called me a dork?” Shiro asked, partly offended but primarily amused because _of course_ Ronnie would say that.

“She said a lot of things about you, man,” Lance said, sniffling. “You wouldn't believe the stories I've heard.”

_Oh God,_ Shiro thought nervously.  


A few weeks later, he was on a jet with Keith, Lance, and Brock Rumlow, a S.T.R.I.K.E. agent there with his team to help them on their mission. And Shiro was certain that had never been so full of regret in his life.

“And so Aunt Ronnie says, ‘Listen, kid. I knew Captain fuckin’ America, and he has smacked himself in the face with his own shield so many times,’” Lance was telling Rumlow, who had never heard this story before and was roaring with laughter. Lance had told that story to as many people as humanly possible, and Shiro was beginning to grieve Ronnie's death for an entirely different reason. Now that Lance's relation to her was no longer strictly classified, Lance was _not_ holding back in retelling all of his Aunt's humiliating stories of Shiro.

“Lance, that's enough,” Shiro said, receiving snickers and smirks in response.

“Cap is right, you guys,” Rumlow said, although he was smiling. “Now everyone, listen up.” He briefed them on their mission, which was to rescue the Lemurian Star, a S.H.I.E.L.D. vessel, from pirates. Simple enough.

As they were preparing to leave the jet, Lance and Keith approached Shiro with smug looks on their faces that made Shiro wary. “You doing anything fun this Saturday?” Lance asked him.

“Well, all the guys in my barbershop quartet are dead, so… No, not really,” Shiro responded dryly. The other two exchanged a glance.

_“Coming up on the drop zone, Cap,”_ Shiro was informed through his earpiece.

“I told you he wouldn't,” Keith said to Lance, who rolled his eyes.

“You know, if you asked Chris out from statistics, he'd definitely say yes,” Lance said, wiggling his eyebrows as the jet's door opened.

“That's why I don't ask,” Shiro raised his voice above the wind.

“Too shy or too scared?” Keith asked tauntingly.

“You're one to talk, Keith!” Shiro yelled over his shoulder, glancing meaningfully at Lance before jumping out. _Honestly,_ he thought as he fell towards the ship, _those two are so_ hopeless _._ They had been dancing around each other for as long as he had known them, and several S.H.I.E.L.D. agents had informed him that it had been going on for much longer than that. If Shiro was being perfectly honest, he thought that it was unfair of them to avoid being together so actively if it was possible at all. In the 1940s, same-sex couples were unheard of - if they had been, then he and Adam might have even -

But now was not the time to dwell on that, Shiro reflected as he climbed the side of the ship and took out the guards. Right now, he had a mission. The others parachuted down to join him, and they split up to complete their separate objectives.

“Keith, what's your status?” Lance whispered over the comms a few minutes later. Keith had gone to secure the boiler room so that the pirates wouldn't be able to move the ship before they made their presence known.

“Engine room is secure,” came Keith's reply.

Lance and the S.T.R.I.K.E. team took out all the pirates who were guarding the hostages, silently shooting them without so much as a warning. Lance, Rumlow, and the others all escorted the hostages out while Shiro went to find Batroc.

He found him in the ship's control room and hurled his shield at him through the window. Batroc dodged and managed to escape, and Shiro retrieved his shield from where it was embedded in the wall before running after him.

_“Kogane missed the rendezvous point, Cap,”_ Rumlow informed him. _“Hostiles are still in play.”_

“Keith,” Shiro said, “Batroc's on the move. Circle back to Rumlow and protect the hostages,” he ordered before Batroc came from around the corner and attacked him, distracting him from Keith's disappearance for a while...

Until a few minutes later, when he tackled Batroc through a door and found Keith on the other side. “Well, this is awkward,” Keith said in his usual deadpan tone. The room was full of computers, and Keith was busy at one of them.

“What are you doing?” Shiro asked.

“Backing up the hard drives,” Keith responded vaguely.

“Lance and Rumlow needed you out their, what the hell are you doing here?” Shiro demanded. “Our mission is to rescue hostages.”

“That’s _your_ mission,” Keith told him as he unplugged the USB drive, “rescuing S.H.I.E.L.D. intel is mine.”

“You've just jeopardized this entire mission,” Shiro informed him angrily.

“Shiro, I think you're overstating things a little,” Keith began, but suddenly Batroc was on his feet again, throwing a grenade at them before fleeing the room. Instinctively, Shiro batted it away with his shield, then grabbed Keith and dove through the window.

“Okay,” Keith said apologetically, “that one's on me.”

“You're damn right it is,” Shiro muttered. Batroc had gotten away.  


Later, at the Triskelion S.H.I.E.L.D. Headquarters, Shiro marched up to Coran's desk angrily. “Are you ever going to share your plans with me?” he demanded angrily.

“Would you prefer that I lie to you?” Coran asked absently, not looking up from his desk. “I'm only withholding harmless information from you, Captain.”

“Harmless -? Coran, those hostages could have died!” Shiro said in disbelief.

“Well, then, it's a good thing I sent you, isn't it, my boy? The greatest soldier in history and whatnot.” Shiro didn't like the idea of everything hinging on his abilities and reputation as Captain America.

“Soldiers _trust_ each other - that's what makes them an army and not just a bunch of guys running around shooting guns,” Shiro replied, still refusing to let this go.

“Listen, Captain, I didn't want you doing something you weren't comfortable with. And Keith - well, he's comfortable with just about anything.” That was true. Shiro had known Keith for two years, and he still had yet to find a limit to his experience in espionage. Lance had once called described him as “the love child of Ethan Hunt and Sasuke”, and (after Lance had explained who those people were) Shiro had agreed.

“I can't lead a mission when the people I'm leading have missions of their own,” Shiro insisted.

“I'm compartmentalizing! No one person can give away all of our secrets if no one knows them all!” Coran reasoned.

“Except you,” Shiro pointed out.

“Well, even I share my secrets occasionally,” Coran said.  


Coran brought him to a lower level of the Triskelion, one that Shiro had never seen before. On this level, there were three S.H.I.E.L.D. helicarriers, each one outfitted with immense guns protruding from their sides. _Coran, what_ is _this?_ Shiro thought fearfully.

“This,” Coran announced proudly, “is Project Insight. Three next-generation helicarriers synced to a network of targeting satellites.”

“Launched from the Lemurian Star,” Shiro realized, but Coran ignored him and continued.

“Once we get them into the air, they never need to come down,” he said. “They have continuous orbital flight, thanks to our new repulsor engines.”

“Pidge?” Shiro guessed immediately.

“Yes, the dear girl had a few suggestions for us after getting an, ah...up-close look at our old turbines,” Coran said sheepishly, and Shiro remembered how Pidge had risked her life to repair a helicarrier turbine two years ago. “It comes equipped with long-range precision guns that can eliminate a thousand hostiles per minute. The satellites can read a terrorist's DNA before he even has a chance to do any real damage, which means we're going to be able to neutralize many threats before they even happen.”

“I thought the punishment usually waited until _after_ the crime,” Shiro said with a frown. It was a remarkable idea, but it didn't feel right. It felt controlling, restrictive - who had decided that S.H.I.E.L.D. had the right to have so much power?

“My boy, we simply can't afford to wait that long,” Coran said grimly.

“Who's ‘we’?” Shiro wanted to know.

“After New York, I convinced the World Security Council we needed a quantum surge in threat analysis. For once, we're way ahead of the curve!” he added cheerfully.

“By holding a gun to everyone on Earth and calling it protection,” Shiro said.

“You know, Captain, I did read those S.S.R. files, and your so-called ‘Greatest Generation’ did some very questionable things themselves,” Coran retorted, clearly peeved by Shiro's reluctance.

“We were forced to compromise at times,” Shiro said defensively, “and yes, we did some things that made us not sleep so well, there's no denying that. But we did it so that we could be free. _This_ isn't freedom, Coran.” He gestured towards the helicarriers. “It's fear.”

“S.H.I.E.L.D. is only being realistic. We take the world as it is, not as we'd like for it to be,” Coran said. “And frankly, I think that it wouldn't hurt you to try to adopt a similar viewpoint.” He seemed angry, but Shiro knew in that moment that he couldn't support Project Insight no matter who it upset.

“Don't hold your breath,” he said before leaving.

 

Shiro left the Triskelion on his motorcycle and didn't stop all day, trying to clear his thoughts. It was dark when he returned home to his apartment, but he couldn't honestly say that he felt any better. He just felt tired. Then he heard music softly issuing from his door, and his senses were suddenly on alert.

He recognized the song immediately as “Sweetheart, We Need Each Other” - the only record he owned. Its slow, soothing rhythm flowed through his apartment as he stealthily moved closer to the source of the sound. He was shocked to see Coran in his living room, slumped on his chair.

“I don't remember giving you a key,” he muttered, irritated - first Project Insight, and now a break-in?

“Do you really think I would need one, dear boy?” Coran asked. “I'm terribly sorry about this. You see, my wife kicked me out.” As he said this, he held his phone up so that Shiro could see the screen. On it, he had typed the words, _EARS EVERYWHERE._ “I have no place else to crash,” he continued, typing something else into his phone: _SHIELD COMPROMISED._

Shiro was angry, shocked, scared. What did that mean for them? “Who else knows about your wife?” he asked.

“Just…” _YOU AND ME_ “...my friends,” Coran said.

“Is that what we are?” Shiro asked doubtfully.  

“That's up to you, my boy,” Coran answered.

Suddenly, there was gunfire -

_No._

Shiro heard Coran shout with pain -

_No!_

And now Shiro had dragged Coran to cover from the window, but it was no use. He hovered uselessly over Coran as he choked out “Don't...trust...anyone,” pressing the USB that Keith had had on the Lemurian Star into Shiro's hand.

**_No!_ **

Shiro watched heard someone burst into his apartment and was immediately on alert...only to see his next-door neighbor standing in the doorway, holding a gun. “Captain Shirogane, I'm Agent 17, of S.H.I.E.L.D. Special Service,” she said, briskly walking over to him, “I'm assigned to protect you.”

Through his daze, Shiro managed to ask, “On whose orders?” but she had frozen, staring down at Coran.

“His,” she responded in a thin, shocked voice. She knelt by Coran and pulled out a walkie talkie. “Foxtrot is down, he's unresponsive. I need EMTs,” she reported into the device.

“Do we have a 20 on the shooter?” Shiro heard someone on the other end respond.

Shiro turned to look at the window - the only place the shots could have come from. “Tell him I'm in pursuit,” Shiro said to his neighbor.

He ran after the shooter, who was currently on the roof of the building opposite. Shiro launched himself through the window and ran through the buildings, hardly taking notice of walls, doors, or desks that got in his way. All he could think of was _Coran, is he all right, what does he mean by ‘Don't trust anyone’?_ Then he crashed through a window and onto roof of another building, where the shooter already was. _Got you,_ he thought triumphantly, hurling his shield at the man with all of his fear and anger.

But the assassin turned around - wearing a mask _,_ Shiro noticed- and _caught_ the shield in both hands. The force sent him sliding backwards, but the man kept his footing and, without pausing, threw the shield back at Shiro, who barely managed to catch it with his metal arm.

When Shiro looked up, the man was gone. He ran to the edge of the building, but he was nowhere in sight.  


He was watching the EMTs operate on Coran when Lance arrived, and, a few minutes later, so did Keith.

“Is he gonna make it?” Lance asked softly, urgently.

“I don't know,” Shiro replied automatically, but his mind was occupied by what Coran had told him before he had been shot: _don’t trust anyone, S.H.I.E.L.D. compromised,_ and _only you and I know._ But with the way things looked now, Shiro thought he might become the only person who knew.

“Tell us about the shooter,” Keith said. His arms were crossed and his violet eyes glared holes through the window of the operating room.

“He's fast. Strong.” Shiro struggled to remember anything else. “Wore a mask over his lower face.” Agent Acxa arrived to stand next to them.

“Ballistics?” Keith questioned her, but she shook her head sadly.

“Three slugs, no rifling - completely untraceable.”

“Soviet-made,” Lance and Keith said in unison. Usually Shiro teased them whenever it happened, but he wasn't in the mood now.

The doctors were beginning to use a defibrillator, men and women in green scrubs swarming around an unresponsive Coran. “Don't do this to us, Coran,” Lance said pleadingly, repeating this under his breath as the doctors tried and tried to bring Coran back to consciousness.

But they couldn't.  


Shiro walked out into the hall, his head swimming. “Shiro!” he heard Keith call after him. _Shit._

“Keith,” he replied, turning to face him.

“Why was Coran in your apartment?” Keith demanded.

Shiro decided it would be best to lie for now, because Keith would inevitably find out - it was only a matter of time for the assassin. “I don't know,” he said with a baffled shrug.

“Cap, they want you back at S.H.I.E.L.D.” Rumlow had arrived at the hospital and addressed Shiro. “Now.”

“Sorry. I gotta go,” he told Keith.

“You are seriously a terrible liar,” Keith deadpanned before walking back into the operating room, most likely to comfort Lance. Shiro decided he would worry about Keith's suspicions later.  


Back at the Triskelion, Shiro was greeted by Alexander Pierce, secretary of the World Council. Although Shiro had never met him, he was an old friend of Coran's, a very genial man to the casual observer. But Shiro knew from the way his eyes analyzed everything that he was also a very sharp man.

“Captain, why was Coran in your apartment last night?” Pierce asked.

“I don't know,” Shiro replied.

“Did you know that your apartment was bugged?” Pierce questioned, watching him closely.

“I did, because Coran told me,” Shiro said, certain that Pierce wouldn't have expected Coran to be so honest with him.

“Did he tell you he was the one who bugged it?”

_That_ gave Shiro pause - was this true? He hadn't considered this possibility, but honestly, he wouldn't put it past Coran.

Pierce took his silence as an invitation to move on. “I want you to see something,” he said, pressing a button so that a video was projected onto the room's main screen. The video was of Georges Batroc, being interrogated.

“Is that live?” Shiro asked.

“Yeah, they picked him up last night in Algiers,” Pierce said, eyes glued to the screen.

Shiro wasn't sure why be was being shown this. “Are you saying he's a suspect? Assassination isn't Batroc's line.”

“No, no. It's more complicated than that,” Pierce said. “Batroc was hired anonymously to attack the Lemurian Star. He was contacted by email and paid by wire transfer, and then the money was run through seventeen fictitious accounts. The last one going to a holding company that was registered to a Jacob Veech.”

Shiro paused, waiting for an explanation. When none came, he asked, “Am I supposed to know who that is?”

“Not likely. Veech died six years ago. His last address was 1435 Elmhurst Drive. When I first met Coran, his mother lived at 1437.” He said this in a very final tone, as if this seemingly tiny thread of a connection would be enough to confirm his suspicions.

“Are you saying Coran hired the pirates?” Shiro asked. “Why?”

“The prevailing theory was that the hijacking was a cover for the acquisition and sale of classified intelligence. The sale went sour and that led to Coran's death.”

“If you really knew Coran, you'd know that's not true,” Shiro responded loyally, automatically. And he was fairly certain that he believed what he was saying.

“Why do you think we're talking?” Pierce asked him. He rose from his seat, and Shiro followed suit. “See, I took a seat on the Council, not because I wanted to, but because Coran asked me to. Because we were both realists. We knew that, despite all the diplomacy and the handshaking and the rhetoric, to build a really better world sometimes means having to tear the old one down.”

And that makes enemies. Those people that call you dirty because you got the guts to stick your hands in the mud and try to build something better. And the idea that those people could be happy today makes me really, really angry. Captain, you were the last one to see Coran alive. I don't think that's an accident. And I don't think you do, either. So, I'm gonna ask again: why was he there?”

“He told me not to trust anyone.” Shiro was reluctant to share anything he had said, but he hoped it would be enough to satisfy Pierce and keep him from finding anything really important.

“I wonder if that included him.”

“I'm sorry. Those were his last words. Excuse me.” Shiro turned to leave.

“Captain,” Pierce said before he could. “Somebody murdered my friend and I'm gonna find out why. Anyone gets in my way, they're gonna regret it. Anyone.”

Shiro looked into his eyes and believed him. “Understood.”

He walked quickly towards the elevator, trying to sort out his jumbled, confused thoughts. Pierce’s bitter words had...bothered him in a way he couldn't quite name. _Just get back to the hospital,_ he told himself firmly, envisioning the flash drive in its rushed hiding spot. It was his only clue so far as to what the hell was going on, and it wouldn't stay hidden for long.

The elevator doors stopped before closing completely, someone's hand preventing them from doing so. That someone was Rumlow, leading two more men. “Cap,” he addressed Shiro casually.

“Rumlow,” Shiro said in return. Then there was silence in the glass box. Distractedly, Shiro's gaze drifted from Rumlow to the door to -

Shiro felt something cold crawl into his chest when he noticed that one of Rumlow's men had an unusually tight grip on his taser baton. A glance at his face showed that he was avoiding Shiro's eyes a little too casually, staring hard out the window. He was clearly trying to act natural, but his obvious effort only served to draw attention.

_Don't trust anyone_ , Coran had said.

The elevator stopped and four more men stepped in, two of them wearing suits and carrying briefcases. Shiro wondered what exactly those cases held. When they walked in, everyone shifted subtly until Shiro was at the center of the space, surrounded completely. That was no accident.

“I never got to tell you; I'm sorry about what happened to Coran,” Rumlow told him quietly. “What happened to him...that was messed up.”

“Thank you,” Shiro replied curtly, not caring whether or not Rumlow's apology was heartfelt. He didn't need any reminders of Coran right now if this elevator ride was going to be anything like he expected.

The elevator doors slid open to admit three more men: large, tough-looking guys not unlike the ones Shiro would pick fights with before...well, before everything. Even after the serum, though, they meant bad news for him. The good news was that, with these men, the elevator was filled to its capacity. The bad new was that the elevator was filled to its capacity. The doors closed in a calm but final way, and damn it, Shiro just wanted to get this over with.

“Before we get started,” he said resignedly, “does anyone want to get out?”

Silence. A tense, coiled silence.

Then the man directly in front of him activated his taser and lunged for him. Shiro dodged the blow and knocked him unconscious, but then someone else had him in a chokehold and others were taking his shield from his back. Two other men grabbed his arms and another gave him a shock with his baton while the guys in suits detached the handles of their briefcases. One of them managed to clamp theirs over Shiro's wrist and instantly, he felt a magnetic pull between the cuff and the metal in the elevator's wall. _So that's what was in the briefcases,_ Shiro thought distantly.

Now the guy in the suit joined the other man holding his arm, both of them trying to force the cuff to snap to the wall. Shiro knew that if they managed that, then they had him. Straining, he jerked his arm down suddenly, causing both men to be pulled forward by the force of the motion. He kicked one of them in the knee hard enough to fell him instantly, and punched the other in the face, knocking him unconscious.

The second suitcase guy was still trying to get Shiro's right arm cuffed, which was a lot harder with his metal arm, thank God. Shiro elbowed him sharply in the face and his unused cuff went flying, sticking to the wall with a clang. Having failed to restrain him, three more men came barreling towards him. Shiro kicked one and punched the other two unconscious, then aimed a blow over his shoulder at the guy who still had him in a chokehold. Then he grabbed the man by the arm and threw him across the elevator, where he collapsed.

Two other men remained in the elevator, one of whom was Rumlow. Shiro blocked a punch from him, but then his cuffed had went flying to the wall, sticking fast. Seizing the opportunity, Rumlow rushed in, striking Shiro with his taser baton. Shiro used his free arm to knock him aside, but then the other man was attacking him, along with another who had returned to consciousness. Using his pinned hand to his advantage, Shiro jumped up and kicked both of them into the elevator's walls, hard, and they staggered to the far end of the elevator to recover. Finally not under attack, Shiro used his metal hand to tear his cuff open. With both hands free he made quick work of the last two -

And then Rumlow was standing up, armed with two batons. “Woah, big guy,” he said to Shiro placatingly, which only pissed him off more. “I just want you to know...this isn't personal!” he said, striking at Shiro on the last word. Shiro blocked him, but then Rumlow used his other hand to shock him. Through the pain, Shiro used his grip on Rumlow's other arm to force him away, then threw the man against the elevator's ceiling with all the force he could muster. Rumlow crumpled to the ground.

“It kinda _feels_ personal,” Shiro muttered before retrieving his shield, knowing damn well that Rumlow couldn't hear him.

One of the men had hit the elevator brakes towards the beginning of the fight. When Shiro deactivated them, the elevator's doors slid open to reveal an entire S.T.R.I.K.E. unit, all with guns trained on him. “Drop the shield and put your hands in the air!” one of them yelled.

Quickly, Shiro twisted and cut the elevator cables with his shield, sending himself plummeting several floors down before the emergency brakes activated. He pried open the doors and found that he was partway between floors. At shoulder height, boots marched against the floor of one level, heading straight for him: more S.T.R.I.K.E. agents. He forced the doors closed again to stall for time, considering his options. Well. More like _option._

“Open up! You have nowhere to go!” the S.T.R.I.K.E. agent barked. _I wish that were true,_ Shiro thought before diving through the elevator's glass wall shield-first. He fell and fell and fell, and then CRASH! He broke through the glass roof of the Triskelion's first floor. A single second - maybe less - passed, and then BANG! He landed on the ground with a force that would definitely have killed anyone else. Fuck, he wasn't entirely certain that it _hadn't_ killed him. But he forced himself to his feet, heading instinctively for the Triskelion's garage. He took his motorcycle and watched the Triskelion grow smaller and smaller in his rearview mirror.

 

Now in civilian clothes, Shiro returned to the hospital for the USB, which he had hidden in a vending machine. But when he got to the vending machine, he realized with a spark of horror that it was _gone._

Beside his reflection in the vending machine's window, Lance appeared, popping a bubble of bubblegum. “This stuff tastes disgusting,” he said conversationally as Shiro whirled around to face him. “I hope you appreciate my sacrifice.”

“I _told_ you you didn't have to actually chew the gum, but did you listen?” Keith said exasperatedly, because _of course_ they were both here.

Without a word, Shiro dragged them into the nearest empty room. “Where is it?” he demanded in a low voice.

“Uh-oh, he's using his ‘Captain America’ voice,” Lance said with mock fear. “I guess we better tell him the truth.”

“It's safe,” Keith said in answer to Shiro's question.

“Partial truths work too,” Lance conceded.

“Lance! Focus, please!” Keith said sharply. Then he turned back to Shiro. “Where did you get it?”

“Why would I tell you?” Shiro asked.

“Coran gave it to you. Why?” Keith countered.

“What's on it?”

“We don't know, dude!” Lance said defensively, raising his hands. “I know Keith here likes to act like he knows everything, but we _don't know_.”

“You knew Coran hired the pirates, didn't you?” Shiro said accusingly.

“I mean, it makes sense: the ship was dirty, Coran needed a way in and so do you,” Keith said with a nonchalant shrug.

“I'm not going to ask you two again,” Shiro threatened. He _hated_ feeling left behind, _especially_ when lives could be - no, when lives _were_ at risk.

Finally, Keith sighed and said, “I know who killed Coran. Most of the intelligence community doesn't believe he exist; the ones that do call him the Winter Soldier. He's credited with over two dozen assassinations in the last fifty years.”

Shiro took a moment to process that information. “So, he's a ghost story.”

“Five years ago I was escorting a nuclear engineer out of Iran. Somebody shot my tires out near Odessa. We went straight over a cliff. I pulled us out, but the Winter Soldier was there. I was covering my engineer, so he shot him - right through me.” Keith told this story in a casual, almost bored tone, but Shiro noticed Lance's expression darkening slightly.

Lance and Keith seemed to share a silent exchange, then Lance reluctantly reached into his pocket and handed Shiro the USB. “This is our only lead. Going after this Soldier guy is a dead end,” Lance said sadly. “People have tried it - _Keith_ has tried it, but it's like you said - he's a ghost story.”

Shiro was glad that they at least _had_ a lead. “Then let's go see what the ghost wants.”  


Shiro, Lance, and Keith found themselves at the mall, which they all agreed was the best place to access the information on the drive without getting caught. Shiro agreed to keep watch while Lance and Keith used an Apple store computer to access the drive.

Keith had estimated that they would have about nine minutes from the second they plugged in the flash drive until S.H.I.E.L.D.  forces would arrive. Sure enough, Shiro began to see S.T.R.I.K.E. agents in the crowd, searching for them. But since they weren't heading for Lance and Keith yet, he didn't engage them. It was best to stay hidden for as long as possible.

The other two exited the store, and Shiro walked over to them, forcing himself to walk slowly, casually. “Did you get anything?” he asked them under his breath as they boarded the escalator. The both nodded, but didn't say anything else.

Shiro was beginning to feel like they might actually get away with this when he saw Rumlow on the escalator up, heading straight for them.

“Keith,” Lance whispered urgently, having spotted Rumlow too.

“PDA Protocol?” Keith whispered back.

Lance winked at him. “You know it.” He and Keith were always using insane strategies (with even more insane names) that they had devised and tested over their long history together. At Lance's confirmation, Keith nodded shortly, and they both seemed to be psyching themselves up for something dangerous. Shiro braced himself for whatever they were about to do...

...and was more than a little shocked to see Keith grab Lance by the shirt and kiss him.

Shiro automatically looked away, his mind racing as he tried to figure out exactly what was going on. _Why the hell are they kissing? We don't have time for this. If anything, they're just making everyone uncomfortable - Oh._ He realized belatedly that Rumlow was looking away from them - away from Keith and Lance, anyways.

Once he passed them, they broke apart. “Works every time,” Lance said with a triumphant grin on his face. Shiro stared at both of them in disbelief.

“What? PDA makes people uncomfortable,” Keith explained, cheeks flushing slightly.

“Whatever you guys say,” Shiro said sarcastically.  


They followed the data on the flash drive to New Jersey, of all places. But as they drew closer, Shiro felt an eerie sense of familiarity. “The file came from these coordinates,” Keith said.

“So did I,” Shiro realized, looking at the name CAMP LEHIGH on a sign posted on the base's gate. “This camp is where I was trained.” It was somewhat different, but he would have recognized it after a moment or two.

“This place is a dead end,” Keith murmured, reading a device that he had taken out.

Lance leaned closer to look over his shoulder at the device. “Huh. Zero heat signatures, zero waves - not even radio.”

Keith huffed in frustration. “Whoever wrote the file must have used a router to throw people off.”

Shiro felt his spirits fall…

...then lift slightly as he noticed something off about one of the buildings.

“Army regulations forbid storing munitions within 500 yards of the barracks,” Shiro said, nearly to himself. “This building’s in the wrong place.”

Inside the building, there were rows of abandoned desks on the floor and fluorescent lights on the ceiling. When Lance tried the light switch, the lights flickered on, illuminating a familiar logo on the far wall.

“This place is S.H.I.E.L.D.,” Lance realized.

“Maybe where it started,” Shiro guessed.

Through the door to their left was a smaller room, with a row of pictures lining the far wall. Shiro recognized Colonel Iverson, Samuel Holt, and -

“Aunt Ronnie,” Lance said softly, gazing at her portrait wistfully. Besides the pictures, the room contained rows of shelves that stood against the walls. On a whim, Shiro pulled at one of the shelves. After resisting slightly, it slid to the side, revealing a short hidden passage leading to an old elevator.

“Why would they go to all the trouble of hiding an elevator inside a hidden facility?” Lance wondered aloud, voicing Shiro's own concern.

There was a small keypad set into the wall next to the elevator. Keith used his device to find the passcode, and soon they were descending into the unknown. The elevator came to a halt, and its doors opened into a dark room. When they stepped into it, lights turned on, illuminating a large, old-fashioned computer monitor in the room's center. It was flanked by two smaller screens on either side, and was surrounded by databanks.

“This can't possibly be what we're looking for. This technology is ancient,” Keith said frustratedly.

Lance nudged him with his elbow. “Not all of it,” he said, pointing to the sleek device on the desk. Shiro wasn't sure what it was, but it was definitely from their time. Keith plugged the flash drive into the small box and all around them, the computers whirred to life. Green text appeared on the main computer screen.

“‘Initiate System?’” Lance read. “Y-E-S means ‘Yes’,” he said aloud as he typed in the command. “Shall we play a game?” he asked with a smirk as the computer buzzed softly. He turned to look at Shiro over his shoulder. “That's from a movie -”

“I know, Lance. You're the one who made me watch that movie,” Shiro reminded him gently, amused if only for a split second.

Then a camera perched atop the central monitor began to move, its lens turning to Shiro. “Shirogane, Takashi, born 1918,” a nasal voice recited, warped by the poor quality that the old speakers provided. The camera turned to Keith, and then Lance. “Kogane, Akira, born 1984. Macias, Alejandro, born 1985.”

“Must be some kind of recording,” Lance said nervously.

“I am not a recording, Herr Macias,” the computer responded. A vague suggestion of a face appeared on the central screen, composed of bright green lines. “I may not be the man I was when the Captain took me prisoner in 1945, but I am.” On the rightmost monitor, a picture appeared: a small, balding man with small round glasses.

“Shiro, you know this thing?” Keith asked, watching the screens apprehensively.

“Arnim Zola was a German scientist who worked for the Black Claw,” Shiro answered, using the moniker that Johann Sendak had gained because of his mutated arm. He walked about the room restlessly in search of an answer to...well, everything. “He's been dead for years,” he added firmly.

“First correction: I am Swiss,” that grating voice said in reply. “Second: look around you. I have never been more alive,” the thing gloated. “In 1972, I received a terminal diagnosis - science could not save my body. But my mind - that was worth saving, on 200,000 feet of databanks. You are standing in my brain,” the computer informed them.

“Gross,” Lance muttered.

“How did you get here?” Shiro demanded.

“No need to be so harsh, Captain - I was invited,” it replied cheerfully.

“He must be talking about operation Paperclip, after World War II,” Keith realized aloud. “S.H.I.E.L.D. recruited scientists with strategic value

“They thought I could help their cause,” the computer responded, “I also helped my own.”

He could only have been talking about HYDRA Shiro remembered Adam, strapped to a table in Austria, dazed and weak. “HYDRA died with the Black Claw,” he said, partly to reassure himself.

“Cut off one head, two more shall take its place,” the thing said, and _goddammit_ , Shiro was _tired_ of hearing that phrase. Back in the 40s, it had been all the HYDRA goons would ever say. _“Saying that is just their method of coping with getting their asses kicked,”_ Adam had said once. The memory made Shiro want to laugh, but then it made him angry as he remembered all that he had suffered because of HYDRA.

“Prove it,” he said in lieu of punching the computer’s screen in.

“Accessing archive,” the computer said. “HYDRA was founded on the belief that humanity could not be trusted with its own freedom.” As it spoke, images and old footage appeared on its screens, accompanying its words. It spoke, and Shiro listened with mounting horror as he learned that HYDRA wasn't dead, that it had never really been dead. Instead, it had been forced into hiding, growing inside S.H.I.E.L.D. like a deadly parasite. “HYDRA created a world so chaotic that humanity is finally ready to sacrifice its freedom to gain its security. Once the purification process is complete, HYDRA’s new world order will arise. We’ve won, Captain,” the computer said. “Your death amounts to the same as your life: a zero sum.” This time, Shiro did punch the screen, but the green face simply reappeared on the rightmost screen. “As I was saying,” the computer continued calmly, but Shiro was _done_ listening to it.

“What's on this flash drive?” he demanded.

“Project Insight requires insight,” Zola's voice issued from the speakers. They were surrounded by it, and Shiro felt like he was suffocating. “So I wrote an algorithm.”

“What kind of algorithm? What does it do?” Keith asked.

“The answer to your question is fascinating,” the computer said. “Unfortunately, you all shall be too dead to hear it.” The doors began to slide closed - Shiro threw his shield in an attempt to hold them open, but it was too late.

“Shiro, we've got a bogey,” Keith reported, his eyes glued to the same device from earlier. “Short-range ballistic.”

“Who fired it?” Lance asked, his voice filled with dread.

“S.H.I.E.L.D.” Keith replied grimly. And in that moment, Shiro knew that the computer's story had been true. HYDRA was a part of S.H.I.E.L.D., whether Shiro liked it or not.

He scanned the room and found a grate on the floor, covering an empty space that might provide them with cover. He tossed the grate to the side, motioning for Keith and Lance to join him. Lance grabbed the flash drive, and the both jumped into the exposed space. All the while, Zola's voice droned on in the background, most likely gloating some more. But Shiro ignored him, jumping after the other two _just_ as the missile hit the facility. He raised his shield above his head to protect them from the explosion as best he could.

Debris fell around them, burying them and keeping them trapped. But they were _alive;_ Shiro could hear Keith and Lance coughing and groaning, and he felt a surge of relief. With all of the strength he could muster, he barely managed to bring the other two out of the debris and help them out to the car, leaning on him heavily. Just as he was leaving, he saw headlights through his rearview mirror.

They had escaped by a few seconds.

“Shiro,” Keith said between coughs, “where are we going?”

“Away from here,” Shiro replied. “After that, I don’t know.”

“I...I know a place,” Lance volunteered quietly. He gave Shiro directions, and they ended up in a small apartment in D.C. as the sun was coming up. It had the air of a recently abandoned place, with comfortable, worn furniture but no clutter that usually accompanied a living space.

“We can stay here ‘n regroup,” Lance mumbled tiredly, “‘m gonna shower.” He left the room, leaving Shiro and Keith in silence.

“What is this place?” Shiro wondered aloud. Keith merely shrugged in response, but this wasn’t his usual neutral indifference. This silence was more tense, and Shiro could almost hear the storm brewing behind the other man’s eyes.

“Keith, what’s wrong?” Shiro asked after several minutes.

“It’s nothing,” he replied, turning away to settle onto the sofa.

“Come on, what is it?” Shiro pressed gently.

Silence. Then -

“When I first joined S.H.I.E.L.D., I...I thought I was going straight,” Keith said quietly, void of emotion. He leaned forward so that his elbows were braced on his legs, hands clasped in front of him. “But I guess all I really did was trade Kenpeitai for HYDRA. I thought I knew whose lies I was telling, but...I guess I just can’t tell the difference anymore,” he finished bitterly.

“Maybe you’re in the wrong business,” Shiro responded with a dry humor that startled Keith into smiling, slightly.

“I owe you one,” Keith said. His expression was carefully guarded, but he looked Shiro directly in the eyes as he said it. “You saved his life...and mine.”

“It’s all right, Keith,” Shiro said warmly, but Keith still looked troubled.

“Shiro...if it had been the other way around,” he began slowly, “if it had been up to me to save your life, would you…” He looked uncertain, more so than Shiro thought he had ever seen him. “Would you have trusted me to do it?” his dark eyes were searching, pleading, _lost,_ and Shiro felt a wave of sympathy wash over him.

“I would now,” he replied simply.

Keith raised an eyebrow questioningly. “You know, you’re pretty cheerful for someone who just found out that he got frozen for seventy years for nothing.”

Shiro felt himself shrug. “Guess I just like to know who I’m fighting,” he replied blithely, and Keith smiled hesitantly.

Several minutes passed in a more comfortable, contemplative silence. Then Shiro spotted framed pictures on a nearby shelf, photos of a smiling family. He felt increasingly uncomfortable as he stared at the pictures. “Does a family live here usually?” he asked Keith. “How does Lance know this place?”

“Maybe this is a friend’s house,” Keith muttered distractedly. “I mean, he had the key.”

“Is his friend away right now?” Shiro wondered. Their situation was too perilous to involve more people than necessary. What if HYDRA found them? “We can’t endanger any more people -”

Lance waltzed into the room then, wearing a blue bathrobe and fluffy blue cat slippers. “Ah, this is much better! Do you guys want breakfast?”

“Lance, whose family is this?” Shiro asked, pointing to the photos. “Are they out of the area right now? Is it safe for us to be here -”

“Woah, there, buddy. Chill out,” Lance said, crossing the room quickly. “No one else is in any danger, man - this is my house.” He picked up a picture that was stuffed fit to burst with people, all crowded into the frame. “This is my family,” he said with a wistful smile.

“Oh,” was all Shiro could think to say.

Lance turned to Keith, frowning. “Keith, you’ve _been_ here before. Why didn’t you tell him?”

The assassin shrugged. “I thought it would be entertaining,” he said with a small grin.  


Over breakfast, they finally discussed what had happened.

“So I guess the question is, who at S.H.I.E.L.D. could launch a domestic missile strike?” Keith mused. Lance hummed the ‘Jeopardy!’ theme under his breath, merely smiling at Keith and continuing to hum when he glared at him. He swung his feet like a kid from his perch on the kitchen counter.

Shiro felt his mouth twitch slightly. “Who is Alexander Pierce?” he answered, and Lance cackled.

“Really, Shiro?” Keith deadpanned, but Shiro could tell he was trying hard not to laugh. “The man is sitting on top of most secure building in the world and you want to make jokes about him?” Shiro and Lance exchanged a look, then shrugged, which made Keith sigh heavily.

“Okay, okay, but in all seriousness, Pierce can’t be working alone,” Shiro said. “Zola’s algorithm was on the Lemurian Star.”

Lance tilted his head to the side thoughtfully. “So was Jasper Sitwell,” he recalled.

Shiro felt a flash of hope again: they had a target now. Then he realized exactly who that target was. “So, any suggestions on how three of the most wanted people in Washington kidnap a S.H.I.E.L.D. officer in broad daylight?”  


They were parked a distance away from the Occidental, where Sitwell was just exiting the restaurant. He had two guards with him, but they had prepared for this. Shiro, in the backseat beside Lance, pressed the call button on Keith’s cell phone and held it next to Lance’s face so that he could speak. Keith had hacked the device so that it would read ‘Alexander Pierce’ on Sitwell’s phone. True to their suspicions, once he saw who was calling he dismissed his guards.

“Agent Sitwell, what’s up, man? How was lunch? I hear the Occidental has really good crab cakes,” Lance prattled into a cell phone as soon as Sitwell picked up. Sitwell said something in response, and Lance laughed. “Good job, you guessed it! Now, here’s another one for you: why do they _call_ me Agent Hawkeye?” As he spoke, he raised his sniper rifle to the gap between the car’s door and window. Shiro had worried that the small space wouldn’t be enough for Lance to see through, but he seemed to have no trouble. “Right again, Sitwell!” Lance said, “I _am_ an expert marksman, one who just happens to need some information from you.” Through the tinted window, Shiro saw Sitwell look down to see a red dot trained on his chest. He scanned the area, but Shiro knew he wouldn’t see them. “So if you would kindly follow my instructions, I’d be happy to avoid ruining that expensive-looking tie of yours,” Lance concluded blithely.

And now they had Sitwell on the rooftop of Lance’s apartment.

“Tell us about the Zola’s algorithm,” Shiro demanded, pushing him towards the edge of the roof

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Sitwell replied, frantically backing away from Shiro.

“Then what were you doing on the Lemurian Star?” Lance asked.

“Throwing up; I get seasick,” Sitwell said with a small, sickening smile. He had backed up to the edge, and Shiro seized the front of his jacket roughly, dangling him over the edge. “Really, Captain? You and I both know won’t go through with it,” Sitwell said smugly. “Throwing people off of roofs isn’t your style.”

“You’re right,” Shiro conceded, “it’s not.” Then he stepped aside so that Keith could approach Sitwell, whose eyes widened when he recognized him. “It’s his.”

Without prelude, Keith grabbed the front of Sitwell’s shirt, pushing him back until he was suspended over the edge. “Any last words?” he asked impassively.

“W-Wait!” Sitwell stammered, all of his bravado gone.

“We’ll be sure to write that on your tombstone,” Keith said.

“Have a nice fall!” Lance added cheerfully.

“Zola's algorithm is a program!” Sitwell shouted, his eyes shut in terror. “It chooses Insight's targets!”

Keith tossed him to the side, away from the edge. “What targets?” he demanded. He barely raised his voice, but Sitwell cringed away from him.

“You - them - Nadia Rizavi, Romelle Foster, Ulaz Marmora, Hunk Savea - anyone. An-Anyone who - who poses a threat to HYDRA,” he said, breathing heavily, “now or in the future!”

“The future?” Shiro asked. “How could possibly it know that?”

Sitwell was rising to his feet now, and laughing nearly hysterically. “The 21st century is a giant, digital book,” he explained to them after he had calmed down, “and Zola's algorithm can read it. Bank records, medical histories, voting patterns, emails,” he rattled off, “all of it! This algorithm can read your past, and it can predict your future.”

“And what then?” Shiro asked, knowing the answer.

“Then the Insight helicarriers scratch people off the list,” Sitwell said, deadly calm, “a few million at a time.” Shiro felt a chill run through him as he imagined it: millions of people, some of whom weren’t even actively opposing HYDRA’s goal, dead within a few breaths. Keith and Lance looked just as shocked as he felt, and he knew that they had to stop Project Insight, _somehow_.  


Now they were on the highway, with Sitwell sitting in the back of the car with Keith and Shiro and Lance in the front. Their plan was to - well, to improvise, mostly. Project Insight was going to launch in sixteen hours, and they needed to use Sitwell to get past the DNA scans and stop the helicarriers from launching.

“Why do I have to sit with him?” Keith groused from the back of the car.

“Sorry, Keith - my car, my rules,” Lance said cheerfully from the driver's seat, “which means you’re stuck with Shitwell, over there.”

“We _stole_ this car,” Keith pointed out. “ _I_ stole this car, so if anything -”

There was a _thud_ on the roof of the car, and Shiro watched an arm reach into the window and grab Sitwell, tossing him out into the middle of a busy highway, screaming in terror all the way. Then the assassin was shooting at them through the roof, and Lance hit the brakes, throwing the man off their car. But the assassin simply rolled with the impact, landing on his feet. _The Winter Soldier,_ Shiro realized with a thrill of horror.

Keith had a gun trained on the Soldier, but just then a vehicle rammed theirs from behind and then continued its forward motion, pushing them towards the Soldier, who jumped and landed on their roof again. He reached in through their front window and ripped the steering wheel out from Lance's hands before jumping onto the vehicle behind them to avoid getting shot by Keith. Then the other car rammed into them again, and now their car was beginning to weave, then tumble as its wheels caught the side of the highway.

“Hang on!” Shiro yelled, bringing Keith to the front and holding on to him and Lance as he knocked the passenger door out. The door and his shield saved them from the worst of the impact as they fell from the car, which tumbled down the highway drunkenly.

The three of them rolled to their feet, and Shiro had just enough time to be relieved before the Soldier was launching a shoulder-fired missile straight for him. He raised his shield just in time and was thrown forcefully off of the overpass instead of killed. He crashed straight into a bus, which must have gotten hit by another vehicle, because suddenly it was tipping over.

There were people screaming, and the sound of gunfire split the air. Shiro winced, trying to clear his head. Thankfully, everyone else had evacuated the bus, because then he was being fired at through the roof of the bus, which was now more like a wall. Shiro ran blindly to avoid getting shot, and burst through the bus’s back window, grabbing his shield as well. He stood his ground against the shooters. Holding his shield at an angle, he deflected the fire from one man onto two of the others, and they fell. Then the third man was shot by someone else - Lance, he assumed. Shiro charged the last shooter, grabbing him and flipping him forcefully onto his back, knocking him out.

He looked up at the overpass to see Lance, in the middle of a gunfight with several other men below. Seeing Shiro watching him, Lance shouted, “Go! I got this - Soldier went after Keith! _Go!_ ” Shiro went.

He found the Soldier standing atop a parked car, aiming, he assumed, for Keith. He charged the man with his shield, knocking him off the car. He landed on his back and fired at Shiro, who took cover behind his shield. Shiro managed to shield himself from the Soldier's bullets, but then the other man was engaging him hand-to-hand, and - damn. He was good.

Shiro was at an advantage with his metal arm, but the other man was _fast_. He got his hands on Shiro's shield, twisting it away from him. Shiro charged the man, who hurled his shield at him, embedding it into the back of some poor person's van. But Shiro didn't have time to dwell on that - the Soldier had a knife now, and Shiro felt all other concerns fade. Here, now, this man had almost killed his friends, and Shiro knew he was good enough to kill him. As they fought, Shiro knew that they were evenly matched. Then he saw his shield nearby and knew that if he could get to it, he might have a better chance. He grabbed the Soldier around the middle and hurled him over his head, onto the concrete. While the Soldier was dazed, Shiro grabbed his shield and used it to strike the man across the face, sending his mask flying. The man rolled to his feet, and turned back to continue their fight, and Shiro

_His face - I_ know _his face -_

felt

_But it can't be -_

time

_But it_ must _be -_

stop.

“Adam?” Shiro couldn't _think._ The only thing that mattered to him in that moment was _it’s Adam, he's alive, he's alive and it's_ Adam -

“Who the hell is Adam?” the man asked in Adam's voice, frowning Adam's frown. He lifted his gun, aimed right at Shiro, but Shiro was frozen. Then suddenly a missile was soaring through the air, straight at the Soldier - at _Adam._

_Wait!_ Shiro wanted to scream, but Adam _(Adam,_ **_Adam_ ** _)_ was diving behind a pickup truck before he could. And when the smoke cleared, he was gone.

Shiro turned in the direction of the shooter and saw Lance standing there, holding a shoulder-fired missile launcher and looking furious. “He shot Keith,” Lance told him defensively.

“Lance, seriously?” Keith was standing next to him, leaning heavily on a car. “I've been shot before.”

Even more armored vehicles were approaching, but they all knew there were too many to fight.

“It doesn’t _matter_ how many times you’ve been shot before, Keith. People can't exactly build up an immunity to getting shot!” Lance said, spreading his arms wide in exasperation. “What if you actually died this time? Then who the hell am I gonna bother all the time?” Lance demanded.

“Lance -” Keith began to say, but then men were emerging from the vehicles, all with guns trained on them. Rumlow was one of them. They forced Shiro to put his shield down and kneel - a gun was aimed at his head and he felt so many regrets surface -

But then Rumlow was ordering someone to put their gun down. “Not here,” he told them, and then Shiro understood why: there was a news helicopter in the sky above them, and that was the only reason they weren't going to kill him now.  


Now they were in the back of an armored truck, no doubt being taken back to S.H.I.E.L.D. But Shiro almost didn't care at this point.

“He looked right at me,” he said to himself, “and he didn't even know me.”

“Shiro…” Lance said hesitantly. “How can you be sure? You haven't seen this guy in like seventy years.”

“Zola,” Shiro said grimly. “Adam's whole unit was captured in ‘43, Zola experimented on him. Whatever he did, it helped Adam survive the fall - they must have found him afterwards.”

“You know that none of that is your fault, right, Shiro?” Keith asked him softly, wincing with pain. Shiro wasn't so sure.

“We need to get a doctor,” Lance told their two guards, voice trembling. “If we don't put pressure on his wound, he's gonna bleed out in this truck -” The guard activated their taser threateningly, cutting Lance off. Then suddenly, they were attacking the other guard with it, knocking them out cold. The guard removed her visor, revealing herself to be Agent Acxa, Coran's right hand.

“God, that thing was squeezing my brain,” she sighed as she removed the helmet.

She used a device to cut a hole right through the bottom of the truck, and they escaped to a facility, where they were greeted by a doctor who immediately wanted to treat Keith's wound. But Acxa stopped him, saying, “He'll want to see him first.” She led them into another room, occupied by a hospital bed, where a man with a vivid ginger mustache lay.

“Coran,” the three of them chorused with surprise.

“Well, it's about time you all got here,” he said crossly, and - yup, that was Coran. Apparently, he was severely injured, but still alive, faking his death by taking a serum that Hunk had invented that slowed the heart beat down to one beat per minute. Then Axca had taken him here, where he had been lying low ever since.

“Dude, we seriously thought you were dead!” Lance said, clearly upset.

“I know, and I’m sorry about that, truly,” Coran replied. “But I had to get away from S.H.I.E.L.D., and this was the only way.” He sighed deeply, wincing in pain. “Everything was terribly uncertain when I first got my suspicions about HYDRA, and they aren’t any more certain now.”

“No shit,” Lance muttered, shooting a worried look at Keith, who was being attended to by the same doctor who had helped Coran survive and fake his death.

“ _But,_ with you three now, we might have a chance to stop Project Insight,” Coran continued determinedly.

The plan that Coran and Acxa had devised was for Shiro and Lance to break into each of the three helicarriers and sabotage them from the inside. Once the helicarriers were launched, Coran and Acxa explained to them, they were set to become fully weaponized at an altitude of three thousand feet. The only way to efficiently stop them would be to infiltrate the helicarriers’ systems by replacing the targeting blades, small cell phone-sized chips that would cause the carriers to target each other, ending Project Insight permanently. But in order for the plan to work, they would have to insert their own chips into every single helicarrier - only one or two wouldn’t allow their plan to work. Meanwhile, Keith would infiltrate Pierce's office disguised as a member of the World Council. From there, he would leak all of HYDRA's secrets to the world, effectively ending both organizations.

Coran looked determined, hopeful. “If this plan succeeds, then maybe we'll be able to salvage-”

“We're not salvaging anything,” Shiro interjected angrily. “We're not just taking down those carriers, Coran, we're taking down S.H.I.E.L.D.”

Coran looked angry. “S.H.I.E.L.D. had nothing to do with this -”

“You gave me this mission - this is how it ends,” Shiro said wilfully. “HYDRA was operating from within S.H.I.E.L.D. this whole time, and _you_ never noticed.”

“None of us would be here now if I _hadn’t_ noticed!” Coran defended himself peevishly.

“And how many paid the price before you did?” Shiro asked.

Coran sighed deeply. “Shiro, if this is about your friend, I didn't know -” he started to say, but the mention of Adam only made Shiro angrier.

“Even if you had known, would you have told me?” he demanded. “Or would you have “compartmentalized” that, too?” Coran remained silent, and Shiro knew he had struck a chord. “S.H.I.E.L.D., HYDRA - it all goes,” he asserted.

“He's right,” Acxa said softly, sadly. Coran looked to Lance and Keith for support, but they wouldn't meet his eyes.

“Well then, Captain - it looks like you're giving the orders, now,” Coran said. He didn't sound angry, just - tired.  


_Shiro's mother had died. He had thought that her funeral would have given him some peace, some sort of closure, but it had only felt empty._

_And now he had to move on, be strong and cope with his loss, accept that he was alone -_

_“Takashi!”_

_Well, almost alone._

_“Takashi,” Adam said, catching up to him and keeping pace with Shiro's shorter stride easily. “Where were you? My family wanted to give you a ride to the cemetery after the service.”_

_“I know, Adam,” Shiro said, feeling defensive and guilty for feeling defensive. “I just...wanted to say goodbye on my own.”_

_“How was it?” Adam asked softly._

Heartbreaking. _“It was okay. She's next to dad now, at least…”_ And now they've both left me.

_“I was going to ask,” Adam began, but Shiro cut him off._

_“I know what you're going to say, Adam,” he said. Adam had casually mentioned earlier that Shiro was always welcome at his place whenever he needed anything, and Shiro could sense that this was about to be a continuation of that thread. He didn't think he could stand to be around friendly, understanding people right now, especially Adam. Staying with him would be a bad idea._

_Sensing that he wasn't open to the idea, Adam pushed on, “Come on, Takashi, it'll be fun! Just like when we were kids: we can put couch cushions on the floor and everything. All you gotta do is shine my shoes, maybe take out the trash,” he added, knowing that Shiro would never agree to stay over for free._

_“Look, I appreciate what you're doing, Adam, but...I can get by on my own,” Shiro said._ That's not true, _he wanted to scream,_ don't believe me.

_And, miraculously but unsurprisingly, Adam didn't. “I know damn well you can take care of yourself, Takashi,” he said, “but can't you get it through your stubborn head that you don't_ have _to?” He looked wistful, he looked sad, he looked beautiful in the soft afternoon light. “Because I'm with you ‘till the end of the line, Takashi.”_

 

“He's going to be there, Shiro,” Lance said softly, bringing Shiro back to the present.

“I know,” Shiro responded. He had remained sitting at the table where they had made their plans when everyone left to make preparations. Now Lance sat across from him, equipped with a bow and full quiver. At times like this, the steely look in his eyes reminded Shiro of Ronnie, but this time the resemblance didn't cheer or comfort him. It made him feel more alone.

“You know, this soldier guy…” Lance began uncertainly, “...I don't think he's the kind of guy you save, after what happened to him. He's the kind you stop.” Shiro didn't respond, and Lance continued. “I don't know how, um... _close_ you guys were in the past, but Shiro… He doesn't know you.” He had on a pleading expression, but Shiro couldn't believe his words. He _refused_ to.

“He will,” Shiro responded.

“Lance, Shiro,” Keith said, entering the room with Agent Acxa. “Gear up, it's time.”

 

Having left his suit at his apartment, Shiro wore his old stars and stripes uniform from the 40s. It would be impractical to go without a uniform, he reasoned. But as he had broken into the museum where they kept his old uniform, he couldn't help but feel foolish, because function wasn't the only reason he was using it. He was hoping that maybe, _maybe_ Adam would recognize it, would remember fighting alongside this uniform if not alongside him.

But now wasn't the time to dwell on that. Right now, he had to focus on his mission: stopping countless deaths.

  


Agent Acxa led Shiro and Lance to the Triskelion’s communications room, which they took control of fairly easily. This gave Shiro access to the intercom system, where they had planned for him to make a statement in order to gain as much support as they could get.

“Attention, all S.H.I.E.L.D. agents,” Shiro said clearly. He heard his voice echoing around the building. “This is Takashi Shirogane. You’ve heard a lot about me over the last few days. Some of you were even ordered to hunt me down. But it's time you know the truth: S.H.I.E.L.D. is not what we thought it was. It's been taken over by HYDRA Alexander Pierce is their leader. The S.T.R.I.K.E. and Insight crew are HYDRA as well. I don't know how many more, but I know they're in the building. They could be standing right next to you. They almost have what they want: absolute control. They shot Coran, and it won't end there. If you launch those helicarriers today, HYDRA will be able to kill anyone that stands in their way unless we stop them. And I know I'm asking a lot. The price of freedom is high - it always has been. And it's a price I'm willing to pay, and if I'm the only one, then so be it. But I'm willing to bet I'm not.”

“There is no way you thought of that off the top of your head,” Lance said, although he still looked impressed.

Shiro grinned. “Come on, Lance,” he said, “we have some helicarriers to sabotage.”  


Shiro fought his way past the guards on one on the helicarriers, knowing that Lance was doing the same on the other. He replaced the targeting blade successfully, and hey - maybe this wasn't going to be so complicated. “Alpha lock,” he reported to Acxa.

“Bravo lock,” he heard Lance say a few minutes later. “I'm taking one of this helicarrier's planes, Cap, I'll give you a ride over with me to the next helicarrier.”

Meanwhile, Shiro was fighting the rest of the HYDRA goons on the helicarrier, and it was getting messy. “You won’t have time to land here, Lance! I'm gonna have to come to you!” And with that, he jumped off the side of the helicarrier.

“Uh...okay, just give me a head's up,” Lance responded.

“That _was_ your head's up!” Shiro yelled as he plummeted. He saw a S.H.I.E.L.D. plane diving towards him and saw Lance through the window. He landed on the top of the plane with a _thud,_ seeing Lance sigh with relief while hearing it separately on his comm. “Jesus, man.”

As Lance flew them closer to the third helicarrier, Shiro saw a second plane heading for them out of the corner of his eye. _Oh, no._

“New plan, Cap: I'm dropping you off, if that's who I think it is,” Lance said, having spotted the plane as well. _Adam._ Shiro was flooded with conflicting emotions, but he simply said, “Thanks, Lance. Be careful,” before jumping off the plane and barely managing to grip the side of the helicarrier to avoid falling to his death.

“‘Be careful,’ he tells me,” Lance said, no doubt rolling his eyes. “I was gonna bring you closer before you _jumped_ , dude, jeez.”

Shiro ignored him and climbed up onto the helicarrier. Then he heard an explosion in midair and whirled around just in time to see one of the planes spiraling towards the ground, one of its engines on fire. “Lance, are you okay?” he asked over the comms frantically.

“Yeah, I'm not hurt,” Lance replied, and Shiro saw a small figure parachuting down to the ground. “But he’s on his way up, Shiro...you're on your own, I - I'm sorry.”

“Don't be sorry,” Shiro told him, “we don't have that kind of time.”  


When Shiro got to the control center of the helicarrier, Adam was there, blocking his path to the chips. His presence drove Shiro's heart insane in so many ways: joy, hope, fear. Seeing as how Adam was most likely here to kill him, he decided to focus on the fear.

“People are going to die, Adam,” he said quietly. “I can't let that happen.” He remembered the moments he had shared with Adam, everything they had been through together. “Please don't make me do this.”

Adam didn't respond, his usually animated face now horribly blank, and Shiro felt the weight of thousands of lives on his shoulders. _I'm sorry,_ he thought before throwing his shield with all his might at Adam. He ducked, and it bounced off the console behind him and back into Shiro's hand. Adam was firing at him now, and Shiro blocked the shots until Adam used two guns, grazing his side with one while Shiro blocked the other.

Shiro cried out and struck him with his shield, sending him sliding backwards. Adam drew a knife, and they fought hand-to-hand again. Shiro used every spare moment to gain access to the command chips, but then Adam knocked his own chip out of his hands before he could replace it. It fell to the bottom of the helicarrier, a glass dome through which Shiro could see the Triskelion below him.

Shiro jumped down and ran after it as best he could while still deflecting Adam's shots. To distract the assassin, he threw his shield at him, but Adam caught it and threw it aside, drawing his knife and charging Shiro again. Adam managed to plunge his knife into Shiro's shoulder then tossed him aside to grab the chip. Pulling the knife from his shoulder with a pained shout, Shiro tackled Adam from behind, getting him into a chokehold.

“Let go!” he demanded - pleaded. Adam did not let go. “ _Let go!”_ he repeated himself, but Adam just continued to struggle. Shiro kept his hold until Adam dropped the chip, unconscious. Shiro released him and ran to complete his mission.

He was climbing the structure that led to the command center when he was shot in the back of the leg. _Adam._ He had recovered faster than Shiro had expected, no doubt a result of Zola's experiments. Shiro cursed himself for forgetting and continued to climb, Adam's other shots missing him narrowly.

“Thirty seconds, Cap,” Agent Acxa warned him.

“Stand by,” he panted, fumbling for the chip, which he had stored in a pocket. Then he was shot in the back, and he collapsed against the console in pain and shock, breathing heavily. Below him, he heard the helicarrier's guns moving, taking aim at its targets - his friends. Desperately, he dragged himself up to the rows of chips and placed Coran's into the slot, biting back screams of pain. “Charlie lock,” he panted triumphantly.

“Okay, Cap, get out of there,” Acxa said. Their plan had been to get the helicarriers to target each other, and Shiro was still on board one. But if they waited any longer, they might lose their chance, and Shiro was _not_ going to let that happen.

“Fire now,” he told her.

“But, Shiro -”

“Do it!” he shouted desperately. “Do it now!” And Acxa, Coran's right hand for a reason, did as he said.

He felt the helicarrier shake about him, firing upon as well as taking fire from the other two. Then he heard screaming - he looked down to see Adam there, trapped beneath a piece of debris and at the mercy of the surrounding gunfire.

The helicarrier was falling now, and Shiro had no idea what to do. On the one hand, the man before him had killed so many people. _“Over a dozen assassinations in the last fifty years,”_ Keith's voice echoed in his head. Who even knew if he could be saved from HYDRA’s influence? On the other hand, he was _Adam._ He had been brainwashed by HYDRA, forced to do God knows what to God knows who. And Shiro knew that, Adam or not Adam, the Winter Soldier did not deserve to die.

Hunched over in pain, he made his way to Adam. He looked so _scared_ in that moment, so _helpless_ , and Shiro felt the same way. Using all of his remaining strength, Shiro lifted the metal beam just enough for Adam to slip out from under it. When he was clear, Shiro dropped the beam, relieved but also slightly regretful - what would Adam do now that he was free?

“You know me,” Shiro said softly, knowing that he stood no chance of fighting him off now. The best way to survive would be to try and bring Adam back.

Adam looked up to glare at him. “No, I don't!” he shouted, punching Shiro and knocking him down.

But Shiro got up again - it was what he did, and Adam knew this, he _had_ to. “You've known me your whole life,” he pleaded. This wasn't about survival - who was he kidding? He just wanted Adam back. “Your name is Adam Wadekar.”

“Shut up!” Adam screamed, shoving Shiro backwards.

And Shiro, who had never run from a fight in his life, dropped his shield and said, “I'm not gonna fight you,” removing his helmet. “You're my friend.”

Adam tackled him to the ground, those dark eyes burning, burning, _burning._ “You're my mission,” he growled.

“You're!”

_Punch._

“My!”

_Punch._

“Mission!”

_Punch._

And through the pain, through the sadness, through everything and anything that this crazy, fucked up world could throw at him, Shiro loved him. He wouldn't fight him - all he could do was hope that it wasn't too late to save him.

“Then finish it,” he rasped, “‘cause I'm with you ‘till the end of the line.”

Adam had his hand back, ready to punch Shiro again. But his face was more animated than Shiro had seen it recently. This wasn't the cold, emotionless face of the Winter Soldier, ready to receive orders and carry them out - it was the face of a man who, quite simply, was _lost._ Shiro braced himself for another blow, but it never came. Instead, he was falling, falling, falling, and then everything went dark.  


“- gonna be okay, Lance.”

“What if he isn't? What if he's not okay because I wasn't there to help him?”

“Lance.”

“I mean, I could have prevented this!”

_“Lance.”_

“Or if Pidge were here, if Allura were here, if Hunk were here -”

_“Lance!”_

“-they could have helped him! But I'm not a genius, I'm not magical, I don't turn into a huge green guy, I'm just _me!_ And what if -”

“Lance, would you _listen to me?!_ You don't _need_ to be any of those things. You just need to be Lance motherfucking Macias, and...and I think you do that better than anyone.”

…

…

“...Keith.”

“Yeah?”

“You just kissed me.”

“Yeah.”

“And...there aren't any bad guys looking for us right now.”

“...Look, if you'd rather forget that it happened -”

…

... 

“I...guess I'll take that as a no.”

“Stop _talking_ , Keith.”

“Oh, _I_ need to stop talking?”

Shiro opened his eyes to find Lance and Keith standing by his bedside, kissing like there was no tomorrow. He rolled his eyes.

Lance pulled away then. “Keith! We can't kiss by Shiro's bedside, that’s -” he turned to see Shiro awake and let out a startled scream.

“How long have you been conscious?” Keith demanded, his cheeks red.

Shiro sighed heavily. “Too long,” he muttered, closing his eyes again.  


Life went on after the fall of S.H.I.E.L.D. As soon as Pidge heard about everything that had happened, she contacted Shiro and the other Avengers (minus Allura, of course, who was off-world).

“I’m glad it’s over,” she said solemnly, her glasses glinting in the light emanating from her screen. “Good guys or not, S.H.I.E.L.D. was pretty shady.” There were murmurs of agreement from everyone.

“So...does that mean we don’t get to hang out anymore?” Hunk asked after a small pause. “‘Cause I mean...I never really trusted S.H.I.E.L.D., but you - you guys are cool,” he said shyly. “I’m gonna miss hanging out with you - do you remember that one time we went out for shawarma after the Battle of New York? That was fun.”

“Aw, Hunk, of course we’ll still hang out!” Lance reassured him. He and Keith had moved chairs next to the hospital bed so that Shiro could also talk to the others as well. “It’s been way too long already, my dude. You need to tell me all about this mysterious “Shay” character you keep alluding to in your texts.”

“Shay?” Shiro asked interestedly. “Who’s that?”

Hunk buried his face in his hands. “Ugh, Lance, stop that! She - She’s just a coworker of mine, Shiro,” he explained, although his tone of voice suggested that that was by no means the end of the story.

“Sure, Hunk,” Keith drawled smugly. “ _Sure_.” Everyone else snickered.

“Oh, shut up,” Hunk grumbled good-naturedly, and Shiro felt his spirits lift. Hunk was much more comfortable around the other Avengers than he had been two years ago, which was always a comfort to Shiro - the very least the man deserved was friends who would look out for him. “ _Anyways,_ I wasn’t just talking about hanging out - like, what if the world needs us again? As the Avengers?” No one said what everyone was thinking in that moment: there was practically no “what if” about it - the world _would_ need the Avengers again.

“S.H.I.E.L.D. _is_ what brought us together,” Shiro admitted, “but we don’t need them. If - _When_ the time comes, I’m not gonna wait around for someone to give me orders.”

“We could be our own team,” Pidge mused, a light slowly coming to life in her eyes, “not Coran’s, not S.H.I.E.L.D.’s: the Avengers.” When she said the words, Shiro felt a weight settle on his shoulders. Not a burden, exactly, and not quite a responsibility - it felt like a promise.  


It was a few months after the battle at the Triskelion. Shiro was returning to his apartment after a long, _long_ meeting with the other Avengers, talking and catching up, but also planning and planning and _planning_. He felt ready to just flop down on his sofa when he opened the door -

And found Adam sitting there, in his living room, staring at him expectantly.

“Jesus Christ!” Shiro yelped, springing backwards.

“I'm not here to hurt you,” Adam said gently, rising from his seat and holding up his empty hands in a gesture of peace. Shiro fought back a thrill at the sound of his voice.

“All right,” Shiro said after a moment's pause, “just don’t _scare_ me like that.”

Adam at least had the grace to look sheepish - for a little while. Then his expression became more serious, and he stepped closer to Shiro. “Takashi, I...I’ve been remembering a few things about...about my past recently, thanks to you.”

Shiro said nothing, only smiled at him encouragingly.

“And I...I know that your name is Takashi Shirogane, but everyone calls you Shiro - except me. I know that we fought together in the war. I know that we were friends for a long time before that as well.” Here he paused  his dark eyes uncertain. Then he moved even closer and hesitantly took Shiro's hands into his. Shiro could feel him trembling - or was that his own hands? “And I - Takashi, I - A lot has happened to me, but there is one thing that I know for certain: I - I really care about you. Or - or _cared_ about you, but - God, why is this so hard? - But I would like to care about you here, now, in this time, if - if you’d be willing to let me, after everything that I've done…”

“Adam, I…” Shiro had no idea what to say. Here, _right here,_ was Adam - different but alive, broken but not beyond repair, trying to reach out to someone, and he had chosen to reach out to Shiro. “I never stopped caring about you, either,” he finally said softly. Slowly, carefully, hopefully, they wrapped their arms around each other and Shiro never wanted to let go. He realized that tears were flowing down his face, but he didn't care. “Adam,” he said quietly, hopefully.

“Takashi,” Adam breathed, and all the tension seemed to melt out of his body. “I don't remember much, but I remember you. I remember you, you, it's always you, Takashi.”

Shiro buried his face in Adam's shoulder, not trusting himself to speak. Finally, after who knows how long, he pulled away reluctantly. “You - you said you don't remember much,” he recalled, “would you like me to try to help you remember?”

Adam, whose face was also tear-stained, nodded happily. “I’d like that,” he said, almost shyly.

Shiro led Adam to his dining room, sitting across from him at the table. Adam allowed himself to be led, much less guarded than Shiro had seen him in...well, in centuries, technically. “Do you remember how we met?” Shiro asked, deciding that that was the best place to begin.

Adam's face scrunched up adorably, and he replied, “A little bit.”

Shiro smiled. “I can work with a little bit. I'll tell you the story, and you can stop me if you have any questions, alright?” Adam nodded, eager to begin, and Shiro thought that maybe, just maybe things would be okay. “I guessit all started one summer in Brooklyn…"

They continued like this for several weeks: Adam would appear, ask Shiro about his past, listen to Shiro's stories, then promptly disappear afterwards, sometimes for days on end. He was most likely trying to keep them both safe by maintaining minimal contact, which Shiro could understand. But _God,_ was it difficult. Adam was slowly coming back to himself, as much as he possibly could after HYDRA’s brainwashing - he joked more freely, laughed more loudly, swore more frequently. Piece by shining piece, he was becoming more and more like the Adam that Shiro remembered - the Adam that Shiro had fallen in love with. But of course, things couldn't be _simple_ for them. When were they ever?

 

_“Come in, this is Captain Shirogane. Do you read me?” he asked._

_“Shiro! Are you alright?” he heard a familiar voice ask._

_“Ronnie! Sendak's dead!” he reported._

_“What about the plane?” she asked._

_“That's a little bit tougher to explain,” he admitted. The plane was carrying a nuclear missile that the_ goddamn _World Security Council had decided to aim at New York when Lotor's army had attacked. And he had to land fast because Adam was holding on to a gaping hole in the plane's side, minutes away from falling. Shiro tried to reach him, to grab his hand, but his metal arm wouldn't let go of the plane's controls, no matter how much he strained. “Hang on, Adam!” he screamed._

_Then Adam's face became horribly blank, and in a flat tone of voice that shouldn't have carried over the roaring wind, he asked, “Who the hell is Adam?” Then the plane was crashing, and everything was cold and dark, dark and cold, socoldsodarktoocoldtoo -_

Shiro jolted awake, his heart racing. _It's 2014. You're Washington, D.C.,_ he reminded himself. The exact details of his dream faded quickly from his mind, but his anxiety refused to leave. Knowing it would be useless to try and go back to sleep, Shiro reluctantly got out of bed and left his room. Maybe one of the other Avengers would be awake, and he could call one of them. He knew for a fact that Pidge never slept; maybe if she wasn't too busy -

There was a dark figure slumped over at his dining table. Shiro's first instinct was to defend himself, but...they weren't attacking. He approached them slowly, warily, and he realized that his visitor was Adam, sleeping with his head pillowed on his arms. _What is he doing here?_ Shiro wondered. He hadn't seen Adam in several days - had he been hurt somehow? Then Adam's shoulders twitched and he cried out softly in his sleep. “No,” he mumbled, and he sounded so _afraid,_ so _tired._ “No, I won't - you can't make me -”

“Adam,” Shiro said loudly, urgently. He shook Adam's shoulder in an attempt to wake him up, but the touch only seemed to upset him, causing him to flinch away.

“No! No, not - not him, _please_ , I won't -”

“Adam!”

“Takashi!” Adam sat bolt upright, glancing wildly around him. “Where - wha -” his haunted eyes landed on Shiro and he started to calm down almost immediately. “Takashi,” he breathed, lurching from his chair and wrapping his arms around Shiro. He was shaking, leaning on Shiro heavily. “I thought you were - I thought I’d _killed_ you, they - they made me do it, and I - I couldn’t stop them, _I couldn’t stop them,_ ” he cried, his hold on Shiro tightening into a grip that would have probably crushed anyone else. But Shiro returned the embrace just as fiercely, afraid - _terrified_ to let go

“I’m right here, Adam,” Shiro said. His voice broke as he said it, and he realized he had been crying. “I’m right here, with you, you’re here and you’re still alive even though I couldn’t save you, back - back on the train, and I - I’m so sorry,” he finished in a whisper, words pouring from him in a torrent of sorrow and guilt and _relief_ at being able to finally apologize for something that had haunted him for years.

Adam laughed shakily. “ _You're_ sorry? Takashi, that wasn't your _fault,_ Jesus Christ, I - this is all so fucked up,” he mumbled into Shiro’s shoulder. “Neither one of us should be alive right now.”

“We shouldn’t,” Shiro agreed, “but thank God that we are.”

“Yeah,” Adam said softly, almost to himself. “Thank God.” They stood there in each other’s arms for what felt like ages - two soldiers, two survivors, two best friends.

After that night, Shiro was forced to realize that he couldn’t help Adam recover alone - he would need professional help for his panic attacks and nightmares.

_Maybe_ I _need professional help,_ Shiro realized, recalling all the other nights he had awoken from nightmares. He had just assumed that nightmares were just a small side effect of his job and past experiences, but now he wasn’t so sure. At any rate, it would be dangerous to ignore anymore, for both of them.

And he knew exactly who could help them.

 

“I wish you'd have let me know about this sooner, Shiro,” Pidge said with a concerned frown. “Take it from someone who knows: PTSD is nothing to brush off.” Shiro had expected it to take much longer to get the ever-busy billionaire’s full attention, but as soon as he had said that it was an urgent matter, she had arranged for them to meet almost instantly. Now they were in the Avengers facility, in the room that was to become Pidge's new lab.

“I...I didn't know it was that bad,” he admitted guiltily.

“It _can_ take the symptoms years to appear, but Shiro…” she put a hand on his shoulder, “...this has been going on for a while now, hasn't it?” He nodded silently, and she gave him an encouraging smile. “Acknowledging the problem is the first step to fixing it,” she told him proudly, “the next is to find a therapist.” She pulled out her tablet, its soft green light reflecting in her glasses. “I still have that list I compiled somewhere of all the top therapists. All you need to do is choose one, and don't you dare even consider _thinking_ about worrying about the price” she told him sternly.

“Thank you, Pidge,” Shiro said sincerely as she commanded G.R.E.E.N. to pull up the list. He hesitated to mention his second request, but he steeled himself and said, “If it’s all right, there's, uh...someone else I'd like to get help for.”

Hearing his careful tone, Pidge stopped her search to look at him warily. “And who might that someone be?” she asked.

He told her.

“Adam Wadekar, huh?” she said suspiciously. “This wouldn't...happen to be the same Adam Wadekar you've been obsessed with finding for the past few months, now, would it? A.k.a., the Winter _fucking_ Soldier?”

“Yes, this Adam is that Adam, but -” Pidge opened her mouth to argue, but he continued desperately, “- but _listen, Pidge,_ he's getting better. He's remembering his past, coming back to himself, he’s - he's not under their control anymore.”

Pidge’s expression was unreadable. She stared at him like that for a long time. Finally, she spoke, slowly. “Shiro, answer me honestly: do you really believe he's not a threat anymore?”

Shiro thought about Adam, about how he had looked that night: fragile and afraid and horrified by his past as the Winter Soldier. “Yes,” he replied firmly. “If you could see him, you'd know that he's - he's -” he struggled to find the words, “- he's _broken,_ Pidge. And he - The only thing he wants is to fix himself.”

Pidge sighed deeply. “If the other Avengers and I get to meet him first -  get to know him better and confirm that he's safe to be around - then I'll do it,” she said.

Shiro let out the breath he had been holding. “Thank you, Pidge,” he said again, feeling as if he might cry for the second time in as many days. Usually he refrained from hugging the woman because she wasn't very comfortable with physical contact. But this time, she embraced him, her head barely coming level with his shoulder. He returned the embrace, furiously fighting back tears.

“I trust you, Shiro,” she said after she had pulled away. Her voice wavered slightly with emotion and she cleared her throat before continuing. “And if you trust him, then I'm going to try to trust him too.”  


Understandably, Adam was nervous about meeting the Avengers.

“They're the fucking Avengers, Takashi!” he exclaimed when Shiro tried to calm him down. He paced the length of Shiro's apartment, gesticulating wildly. “They’re heroes, they're the good guys, and _I've tried to kill half of them_!”

“I'm sure Keith and Lance haven't taken it personally,” Shiro said honestly. He was nervous too, of course, but he always found it easy to be calm and logical when someone else was more panicked than he was. “ _Tons_ of people have tried to kill those two.” Adam just groaned loudly in response, flopping down on the sofa.

Silence, for a while. Then -

“You know, you didn't have to stick your neck out for me, Takashi,” Adam said softly. “I know how much these people mean to you, you didn't have to…” he trailed off uncertainly then, staring fixedly at the ceiling and not meeting Shiro's eyes.

“You know, you mean a lot to me, too, Adam,” Shiro reminded him gently. Adam turned his head to look up at him, and Shiro felt as if those dark eyes were pinning him to where he sat. Then there was a knock on his door and he forced himself to look away.

The Avengers were crowded into the tiny hallway, with Hunk at the forefront. “Shiro! Hey, how’s everything? I heard you got Adam back, congratulations!” he said cheerfully.

“Hunk,” Shiro greeted him in return, feeling more at ease already. “Come in, please.”

They filed into his apartment silently. “Wow, I've never actually seen your apartment, Cap,” Hunk observed. “It's nice, nice and cozy - Oh, hey! You must be Adam!” Adam stood by the couch awkwardly, looking halfway between sitting and fleeing the room.

“Uh, yeah, I - I'm Adam,” he said quietly, standing up straighter. His eyes flitted over each of the Avengers’ faces briefly before landing on Shiro's. He tried to smile at him comfortingly.

“Wait, _this_ is Adam?” Lance asked incredulously, the first of their group to speak besides Hunk. “As in, _Adam,_ Adam? Shiro’s Adam?”

_What the hell, Lance?_ “He isn’t _my_ Adam,” Shiro replied, trying to ignore the heat rising to his face.

Adam looked confused, glancing back and forth between Lance and Shiro. “I - I swear, this conversation has happened before.”

“Uh, I think I’d remember having a conversation with _you_ before,” Lance said, gazing appreciatively at Adam’s face. Shiro could hardly blame him, but _still._

“Lance,” he said warningly.

The marksman raised his hands defensively. “I’m not trying to steal your man, Cap. But that doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate how hot he is.”

“He’s _not_ my man,” Shiro insisted.

“Right. So you just spent months on end obsessively trying to find this guy, _never shutting up about him_ , and we’re supposed to accept that he’s _not_ your man,” Pidge said slowly. All the Avengers turned their heads to look at Shiro disbelievingly and fuck, it was time to change the subject.

“Takashi talks about all of you a lot, too,” Adam piped up, as if reading his mind. “I’ve heard some...very interesting stories,” he said, chuckling slightly.

“You told him about us?” Pidge asked Shiro. _How much did you tell him?_ her doubtful expression seemed to ask him.

“He didn't tell me any important information, if that's what you're wondering,” Adam said, “he's pretty careful about all of his stories.”

“Then what has he told you?” Keith asked suspiciously.

Adam seemed to be gaining confidence, slightly. “He just tells me the funny stuff,” he replied with a slight smirk. “You'll be shocked to hear this, but Captain America is actually a terrible gossip.” The Avengers turned to look questioningly at Shiro again, who suddenly remembered everything he had ever told Adam about the others. _Oh, God._

Then Lance let out a short laugh. “You seem all right, Adam,” he said warmly, extending his hand to the other man. “We've never actually met; I'm Lance.” After hesitating for a second, Adam took it, a smile spreading across his face slowly.

“Nice to finally meet you,” he said in reply, “I've heard a lot about you.”

Lance grinned smugly. “I'm sure you have.”

Adam’s expression turned sly. “I heard Pidge once chased you around Holt Tower in full Iron Woman armor for stealing a pack of her energy drinks.”

Lance’s jaw dropped. “Shiro, you _told him_ about that?!” he demanded, and Adam gave Shiro a shit-eating grin that both thrilled and terrified him.  


Then one day Shiro was called away on a mission. Some arms dealer had somehow gotten ahold of some dangerous tech from Holt Industries, and he had to be stopped before he could sell them to someone even more dangerous. Shiro had been forced to leave without so much as a chance to say goodbye to Adam.

When he got home he heard a familiar song playing inside his apartment.

_(How I’m missing you. I’d rather spend my time just kissing you.)_

And when he opened the door, Adam was sitting in the living room again, listening to Shiro's record-player with tears streaming freely down his face.

_(Bees need the flowers, flowers the dew. We all need someone, honey, how I need you.)_

He didn't look up when Shiro walked in, even though Shiro knew Adam was aware that he had.

_(Oh, sweetheart, we need each other.)_

“Adam?” he asked cautiously. Adam fell victim to panic attacks ever since he had broken out of HYDRA’s mind control, but this didn't look like one of them.

Adam turned his head to look at him slowly. “Takashi,” he said, in a hoarse voice, “that night in Italy, after you rescued me and we marched back to the camp…”

Oh God, did Adam remember that night?

“And we were in your tent, and - and Ronnie was there too, and she didn't know how to dance, so she - she asked us to teach her… And then we danced to this song - you and me, because she said she was a...a visual learner or something like that...”

Apparently he _did_ remember, and a lot more vividly than he had remembered a lot of other things from their past. Shit.

“And then Iverson interrupted us, but before that -” Adam broke off suddenly, ducking his head to look at the floor. “Never mind. I - I’m probably remembering it wrong or something.” He smiled up at Shiro, but it was strained, and dammit, Adam should never have to fake a smile for him of all people. Shiro wanted - _needed_ to know whenever he was sad, so he could help him.

“No, no, go on, Adam - what else do you remember?” Shiro asked gently, crossing the room to sit beside him. “Anything you do remember is really important, even if you don’t remember it entirely right. And I - I’m always here to fill in the blanks for you, you know that.” Sure, Shiro wished that Adam didn’t remember that night, but what was he going to do, deny that it had ever happened? Adam deserved to remember as much of his former life as possible, no matter what Shiro wished or regretted.

Adam turned to smile at him again, and this time it was more genuine. Shiro’s heart pounded loudly, as if clamoring for Adam’s attention. “Thanks, Takashi,” Adam said softly. “You - that means a lot to me, and I - I’ll never forget how you helped me. How you brought me back from... _whatever_ I was.”

This sounded an awful lot like a goodbye to Shiro, and now his beating heart actually ached with worry. Shiro firmly told himself that if Adam ever left, he would be happy just to have helped him, but there was another part of him that just knew he would be miserable if Adam left, a selfish, selfish part of him that wanted him to stay forever, here, with him.

Adam seemed to be steeling himself, inhaling deeply before speaking, starting out slowly until his words sped up, becoming a blur. “That night, we danced to this song, and - and that asshole Iverson interrupted us, but before that, were you - were - wereyougoingtokissme?”

It took Shiro a moment to realize what Adam had just asked, even though it was exactly what he had feared he was going to ask.

_Answer him. Tell the truth._

_But what if he gets uncomfortable?_

_He_ asked _. Tell him!_

_But what if he leaves?_

_He deserves to know_

_But what if he hates me?_

_He deserves to know that you love him!_

_But what if -_

“Yes,” Shiro blurted out, his words coming just as quickly as Adam’s had. “I mean, no. I mean...maybe?” Adam’s brow furrowed. _Fuck, I’m just confusing him._ “I mean…” Shiro took a deep breath. “If you had wanted me to...if you had asked, or - or kissed me first, then...then yes. I would have.” _Fuck, should I say more?_ “But if...if it would have made you uncomfortable in any way, I wouldn’t have. I - I’m happy with being friends, if that’s what you want.” _Fuck, should I have said less?_

Adam stared at him. He stared for a long time, and Shiro felt...fuck, he didn’t know _how_ he felt. Then carefully, carefully, he took Shiro’s hands into his own, cradling flesh and metal together as if there were no difference, staring down at their entwined hands as if he couldn’t quite believe they were real. And Shiro

“Takashi, what if…”

felt

“...what if I don’t want to be just...”

time

“...just friends?”

stop.

“I mean...I know I’ve done...a lot of horrible things,” Adam continued haltingly, still looking down at their hands. “I know that...that you deserve someone who...who remembers their own life, who doesn’t have a panic attack when you mention some city or historical figure that...that holds bad memories, who doesn’t wake up screaming in the middle of the night because he remembers what it’s like to kill…” He looked up at Shiro, his dark eyes shining, burning with tears. “You deserve someone _good,_ Takashi,” he said, his voice breaking and making Shiro’s heart catch in his throat. “You deserve someone who isn't broken; someone who isn’t selfish enough to still want you, to still _love you,_ to still hope that he could ever deserve you after - after everything that he’s done.”

“Adam,” Shiro said softly, unsure of whether he wanted to cry or to celebrate because _holy shit, Adam had just told him that he loved him._ “Adam, I - I love you too.” Adam’s eyes widened, disbelieving and hopeful and beautiful _,_ which gave Shiro the courage to continue. “I _have_ loved you for - for over seventy years, and I - I don’t know _where_ you got the idea that you don’t deserve me because you were their _victim,_ Adam, they forced you to do those things but you still held on and you still broke free and you’re still here and you’re _recovering_ and - and maybe this makes me a bad person, but that’s all that matters to me _._ I…” Shiro wanted to say more, but Adam was looking at him in this soft, incredulous way that was sort of melting his brain, so he simply said, “I love you, Adam. How could I not?”

Then they were both leaning forward and Adam was _kissing him._ And although he had never kissed him before, it felt like coming _home_ . This was something he had always wondered about but never quite dared to wish for, always trying to dismiss that _what if-?_ as soon as it surfaced. But now it had finally been answered, and the answer had been worth the wait.


End file.
